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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22396420">My Work is Loving the World</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellabeatrice/pseuds/bellabeatrice'>bellabeatrice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff, Frog Prince AU, Gardens &amp; Gardening, Gratuitous Robots, Harley loves his acronyms too, M/M, Meet-Cute, Sort Of</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 09:22:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,672</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22396420</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellabeatrice/pseuds/bellabeatrice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harley Keener lives alone in Tony Stark’s cabin by the lake. He fills his days with bot-building, AI-coding, garden-tending, and absolutely no spider-killing. It’s fun, sure, but he’s terribly lonely. That all changes when he comes across a red and blue spider in his garden, and to make matters even better, the little fella can understand him.</p><p>Truly, it’s a testament to Harley’s sanity — or lack thereof — that he doesn’t run away screaming. Instead, he smiles softly and holds out his hand. “Well then, Peter. Want to come stay with me in the house for a little while? I’m real lonely up there and could use the company.”</p><p>The spider Peter doesn’t bother spelling out a response. He just jumps into Harley’s hands, ready to go with him to the ends of the earth.</p><p>“Well then,” Harley says again, if only to fill the silence between himself and the nonverbal creature. “Here we go.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harley Keener/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>126</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>My Work is Loving the World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Offbrand_Celestial/gifts">Offbrand_Celestial</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My lovely friend Izzy sent in a prompt on my Tumblr, so I took it and ran with it. I have somehow ended up with this monstrosity. Somewhat inspired by the Frog Prince, minus the bratty princess.</p><p>Prompt: Efflorescence (Flowering, blooming) or Gossamer (The finest piece of thread, a spider’s silk) for the word fic ask game, and parkner ofc ;))</p><p>Beta'd by the lovely Knightowls</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When he was nine years old, Harley read that killing spiders in a beer brewery was practically illegal. His garage might not be a brewery — though admittedly, he had made moonshine in there once or twice on a whim with a friend or as a dare — but he still outlawed the killing of spiders.</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” his Ma had asked, stepping into the place to bring him a dinner plate. She frowned at the expanse of cobwebs Harley empathetically embraced.</p><p> </p><p>“They’re cool creatures,” he said with a shrug, mouth full with a bite cornbread. “Ain’t done nothing wrong to me, so I don’t see no point in killin’ them things.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>Twelve years later, not a thing has changed. He lives in Georgia now, in the lakeside cabin Tony and Pepper keep as their getaway house. They visit more often as Morgan gets older, needing a break from whatever mess they handle up in the city to spend time as a family — Harley and the other Keeners included. Harley’s Ma lives in New York, has some swanky job in one of Pepper’s departments, but Abbie’s in Georgia with Harley, attending Emory University. Harley, at Tony’s insistence, had finished high school before moving out, though he refused to go to college. He liked living here, alone most of the time except for when Abbie visited from her dorm on holidays and the Starks and his Ma came down every couple of months. He could do as he pleased, tinkering and inventing and regularly blowing things up. He was terribly happy in that cabin by the lake.</p><p> </p><p>He was also terribly lonely.</p><p> </p><p>Sure, he had his cars and his bots and his trusty AI C.I.R.C.E, but they weren’t the same as human connection, something he infallibly yearned for. Some days, when the self-imposed isolation was too much to bear, he’d drive half an hour into the city of Atlanta, stay a night in a hotel, find a bar, and dance the night away with a faceless guy or two before sleeping alone, buzzed but not drunk and temporarily satisfied.</p><p> </p><p>Most days though, he’d just swallow down the loneliness, bury himself in work or bury himself in blankets. It was all the same to him anyway — a hazy blur of sunrises and sunsets and meals he may or may not have eaten, chores he may or may not have finished. The pile of dirty clothes is a testament to that last one, and he spends three days in an engineering binge to create Landry, the bot who lovingly does his laundry for him when he can hardly be bothered to get out of bed.</p><p> </p><p>Some memories in this hazy blur stick out more sharply than others, and they all revolve around the garden.</p><p> </p><p>It had been started by Pepper as a vegetable garden. When its care fell into Harley’s hands, he had lovingly invested in it, throwing as much hard work and passion into it as he did his engineering. Over the years it has grown into a veritable maze — though not an actual hedge maze, which would have been unimaginably pretentious in Harley’s eyes, and much too orderly. He grew nearly every fruit, vegetable, and flower the Georgia climate would allow and spent hours engineering bots to take care of it.</p><p> </p><p>And, just as in the old garage back in Rose Hill, he had a strict no spider-killing rule.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>Harley wakes up, sprawled sideways in a chair on the porch. The sun is high in the sky, and a glance at his phone indicates that it’s well past noon. Even then, Harley shivers, the spring air not yet warm enough for his liking. Half a day wasted, though really, Harley muses as he goes inside, he was up all night combing through his AI’s code, so it’s not like he actually wasted time. Just daylight.</p><p> </p><p>“Mornin’ C.I.R.C.E,” he greets his AI, yawning. “How we feeling?”</p><p> </p><p>“Like brand new, after last night’s check-up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good, good,” he murmurs, rifling through his dresser. At long last he finds a pair of clean jeans, holding them up with a triumphant grin. “C.I.R.C.E., wake Kof-E up for me, will ya? And send Landry in here. She’s been slacking off her duties.”</p><p> </p><p>“You got it, partner.” Tony had been downright scandalized when he heard Harley’s AI’s country twang. Abbie had laughed about the look on his face for days. Harley smiles at the memory as he goes back out into the kitchen, freshly dressed but with his hair as unkempt as ever. His beloved robot Kof-E whirs from his place on the kitchen counter, wheeling closer as Harley approaches to present a cup of coffee. Harley takes it and pats the robot’s head. He heads outside again, slipping on his boots and a flannel as he makes his way to the garden.</p><p> </p><p>He grabs an apple from the trees that line the border of the garden as he walks through, pausing to greet his robots — Go-G and Gerald — by name as they trundle along. Soon he reaches a small clearing by the lake under the shade of an oak tree that’s sure to be over a hundred years old. Here, Harley takes a seat, finishing his apple and tucking and core into a bag in his pocket that he’ll put in composting later. </p><p> </p><p>A flash of light catches his eye, and he stands, moving closer to the source. There, in between the branches of the tree, is a spider web that — if Harley’s not hallucinating — spells out <em>HI</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Howdy,” Harley says out loud in response, feeling only a little stupid. “Where are you?”</p><p> </p><p>As if it can understand him, a spider skittles out of the shadows of the branches. Harley bends closer to take a look, surprised by the vibrancy of the peculiar red and blue creature.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you understand me?” Harley asks. </p><p> </p><p>He only has to wait a moment before the spider has spun a new pattern, spelling <em>YES</em>. </p><p> </p><p>“You got a name, fella?”</p><p> </p><p>The response takes a little longer this time as the spider spells out <em>PETER</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Truly, it’s a testament to Harley’s sanity — or lack thereof — that he doesn’t run away screaming. Instead, he smiles softly and holds out his hand. “Well then, Peter. Want to come stay with me in the house for a little while? I’m real lonely up there and could use the company.”</p><p> </p><p>The spider Peter doesn’t bother spelling out a response. He just jumps into Harley’s hands, ready to go with him to the ends of the earth.</p><p> </p><p>“Well then,” Harley says again, if only to fill the silence between himself and the nonverbal creature. “Here we go.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>Over the next few days, Harley and Peter figure out how to live together comfortably. All of Harley’s robots are programmed to recognize and avoid spiders and spider webs, so Peter’s safety isn’t much of a concern. Communication, however, is.</p><p> </p><p>They start out with an old-fashioned chalkboard with basic responses, needs, and the alphabet written out for Peter to indicate by crawling on. With that taken care of, Harley sets off on his next engineering binge, with the goal in mind to create a robot that will allow Peter to move and speak.</p><p> </p><p>He begins by programming a new AI called PETER — Personal Equipment for Telecommunications and Electronic Replies because Harley loves is acronyms as much as Tony does — and gives him the voice of a teenage boy or young adult.</p><p> </p><p>If Abbie or his Ma were here to witness this bout of insanity, they’d call him out for his poorly concealed loneliness. Nonetheless, he is alone and shamelessly gives in to his fantasy of finding a best friend, even if that best friend is a spider.</p><p> </p><p>And really, Peter’s not too shabby of a best friend to have. He likes bacon and waffles — really, the fact that this spider liked human foods should have been a glaring clue to Harley that something truly weird was going on — and makes Harley regain a somewhat normal sleeping schedule by wrapping webs gently around his wrists to make him stop working late at night and somehow — Harley has never figured this one out — getting C.I.R.C.E. to play rock music loudly every morning to rouse him awake. He also gets C.I.R.C.E. to wake Kof-E up every morning though, so Harley can’t complain too much. Peter accompanies Harley in the lab, webbing tools over with surprising strength and giving as much input as he can with his limited communication abilities. He accompanies Harley into the garden every evening and listens as Harley speaks, asking questions every now and then with his little chalkboard. Harley can’t wait to build his robot, ready to hear Peter tell him a story of his own.</p><p> </p><p>At long last, after two weeks of work, Harley finishes the robot, affectionately nicknamed “Capslock P.E.T.E.R.,” with Peter’s approval. He guides the spider into the clear container that serves as Capslock P.E.T.E.R.’s head before stepping back with bated breath to watch his genius play out.</p><p> </p><p>“Hiya, Harley,” Peter/P.E.T.E.R. says, and Harley is nearly moved to tears. “I’m Peter.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Harley replies with a breathless laugh. “It’s nice to meet you, Peter.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s nice to meet you too,” Peter replies, voice full of emotion that Harley had no idea an AI was capable of producing.</p><p> </p><p>That evening, they go out to the garden, back to the clearing where they first technically met. Peter greets the garden robots as he trundles by, voice adorably becoming more enthusiastic as the robots chirp back. Harley just smiles fondly at the spider inside the robot, quietly regretting his failure to give Capslock P.E.T.E.R. a face, if only to see him smile back.</p><p> </p><p>“I think it’s your turn to tell me a story,” Harley says, settling by the lake. P.E.T.E.R. rolls to a stop beside him.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” he says. “Well, here it goes.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>Peter had once been Peter Benjamin Parker, a bright, young science nerd living in New York City with his aunt. He worked as an intern for Tony Stark, who found the boy after heavy surveillance of a masked vigilante who liked to web muggers up in a sticky, fluid substance of his own invention. “Spider-Man,” the media called him, though Tony preferred “Spider-Boy.”</p><p> </p><p>Then, in a tragic twist of irony, Peter was actually bitten by a spider and somehow become a spider himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Stark was beside himself. The whole thing was so bizarre, and he couldn’t figure it out. Dr. Banner thought it was radiation, but he attributes most unexplainable phenomena to radiation,” Peter explains.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, a wizard doctor guy Tony reluctantly called in a favor with figured it out. Harley wants to interrupt and ask what exactly he had figured it out, but Peter glosses over it and presses on. Apparently, Tony had been telling Harley’s Ma the story and she, remembering Harley’s affinity for spiders, had suggested that Tony send Peter down to Harley’s place. They wanted it to be a secret or for him to figure it out on his own or something, so they discreetly packaged Peter in the latest care package/equipment shipment they had sent down from New York.</p><p> </p><p>“That was nearly a week before I found you!” Harley cries out, remembering.</p><p> </p><p>Peter reminds him that “You had an engineering binge,” and Harley blushes, unapologetic.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>Together, they sit in silence for a moment as Harley digests the story, which really was something straight out of a comic book. Then a thought occurs to him and he says, “Hey, what did that wizard doctor figure out?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Peter says with poorly feigned surprise, as if he hadn’t wanted Harley to remember that little detail he left out. “Yeah, he figured out a cure.”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s a cure?” Harley turns to face Capslock P.E.T.E.R. with excitement. “Peter, why didn’t you so? We have to fix this! Tell me, what can I do?”</p><p> </p><p>Peter is quiet for a moment, and Harley begins to wonder if he’s said something wrong. “See, this curse or whatever is magic. And the only cure is a kiss. A true love’s kiss.”</p><p> </p><p>Harley’s mind goes blank. <em>True love</em>?</p><p> </p><p>Harley doesn’t believe in true love. He doesn’t buy into the whole soulmate idea. He moved out to a cabin in the middle of the woods with a heavily encrypted, unlisted address, condemning himself to a solitary lifestyle. He’s lonely, sure, but he likes it. He likes his space, his bots, his AI … </p><p> </p><p>And Peter. He really, really likes Peter.</p><p> </p><p>In the past couple of weeks, Peter has become an integral part of Harley’s life as his trusted companion and caretaker. He’s listened to all of Harley’s stories, and Harley wants nothing more than to hear all of Peter’s, get to know the boy beneath the arachnid body. As he thinks about it more, Harley can’t imagine a life without Peter in it, and maybe Peter’s not his true love — not yet, at least — but it’s worth a shot.</p><p> </p><p>“Well then,” Harley says tentatively. “What are we waiting for?”</p><p> </p><p>With shaking hands, he frees Peter from Capslock P.E.T.E.R.’s containment, smiling as the red and blue spider jumps eagerly into his hands. Harley raises his palm to his face, closes his eyes, and before he can think any more about it, he kisses the creature.</p><p> </p><p>Immediately, Harley can feel the ripple of magic course through Peter’s body. The creature in his hands morphs until he’s cupping not a spider but the soft cheek of a boy whose lips are pressed gently against Harley’s. He opens his eyes at long last and pulls away, unable to contain a gasp at the sight of the boy-turned-spider-turned-boy-again, whom he’s come to love.</p><p> </p><p>Peter wears what looks like a spandex suit, though it’s probably some fancy Stark tech, red and blue with black webbing all over it and a black spider emblem emblazoned on his chest. Harley assumes that the mask Peter mentioned is missing, but he’s glad for the fact as he drinks in Peter’s rosy cheeks and amber eyes and tousled brown curls that make Harley’s heart ache with yearning.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” Peter says nervously in his own voice, not Capslock P.E.T.E.R.’s.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank God you came back wearing clothes, because that would’ve made for a real awkward situation.” Harley wants to take back his words — which he hadn’t actually meant to say aloud, for goodness’s sake — as soon as he sees Peter’s eyes widen, but when the boy lets out a bark of surprised laughter, Harley relaxes, joining in. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay. The first time I met Mrs. Potts, I ran into her — literally — and tried to say either ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘Nice to meet you’ but ended up blurting out ‘I’m sorry to meet you,’ instead. I just ran away. It was so embarrassing!”</p><p> </p><p>Harley can’t help but to laugh again, leaning his head on Peter’s shoulder. Peter leans his head on top of his. They sit there together, in the clearing by the lake, where it all began, feeling completely at peace with the world and each other and their state of being.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Harley says suddenly, grabbing hold of Peter’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>“What for?”</p><p> </p><p>“The efflorescence of love,” Harley replies, “and the gossamer that holds us together.”</p><p> </p><p>Peter says nothing at that, just squeezes Harley’s hand tighter. Together, they watch the sunset, witness the way the world changes colors.</p><p> </p><p>The world might be forever changing, but at the heart of it all sat two boys by a lake with the knowledge that through it all, they’d have each other.</p><p> </p><p>And it would be enough.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>“I died, and was born in the spring; / I found you, and loved you, again.”</p><p>— Mary Oliver, “Hummingbirds”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title from Mary Olver’s “The Messenger.” Can you tell I like Mary Oliver? Catch me on tumblr @parknerplease</p></blockquote></div></div>
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